


Play Your Cards Right

by redhoodsrobin (manatsuko)



Series: hold my body, hold my breath [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: (as in 'blink and you'll miss it'), Assassination Attempt(s), Begging, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, Insecurity, Kissing, Light Angst, Light Masochism, M/M, On the Run, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Slow Burn, ft. dumb pillow talk, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manatsuko/pseuds/redhoodsrobin
Summary: - you might get lucky tonightWrapping up the mission had been easy; getting home turned out to be the difficult part. Good thing there's always a department store around.Or: The road home is paved with avoidance, but Dick is pretty stubborn. They'll get there, eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to Lies From My Lips. It references a few things that happened there, so I reccommend you read that first (but it's not required tbh)
> 
> The mission details are as vague as the timeline at this point but see if I care ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

"So," Dick starts, "We're in a bit of a tough spot here."

He rubs a hand over his neck, trying to ease the tension gathered there. The night is still dark, but the skyline is as mesmerizing as the first time he laid eyes on it - bright city lights twinkling off to their left, wide-open wasteland and roads on their right, clear skies as far as the eye can reach.

Well, mostly clear.

A few miles out, there's smoke rising from the remains of a smuggling ring's headquarters. Both Jason and Dick had spotted the explosives too late to diffuse them, though they'd escaped mostly unharmed. The big fish were in cuffs on the police's doorstep, along with enough evidence to put them away for life. All of it done anonymously and untraceable, of course.

Things went downhill after that.

They had known there was a chance that their false identities had been compromised, but they didn't expect the remaining henchmen to put a price on their heads so soon. Dick thanked his lucky stars that the only information those goons had to go on were some credit cards, plane tickets, and their luggage. All related to their fake ID's. Jason had already taken care of their hotel records before heading out earlier today, effectively erasing any digital traces of their stay from existence.

That leaves them in their current predicament.

Taking initiative and putting the stragglers behind bars would be the fastest solution, but all of them are on high alert and holed up within the resort's perimeter. So far, Jason and he have been careful to avoid notice, both as civilians and vigilantes. Even with their covers blown, their involvement is far from general knowledge to the public and local law enforcement.

Worst of all, it might influence Delano's court trial in his favor if his lawyers can claim third-party tampering. It would be a blatant lie, but the guy is well-connected and rich enough to pull it off. He would need proof of their presence though, and a pair of fake ID's in a casino-laden city won't prove much. Nightwing and Red Hood fighting their way through the resort's security however?

Yeah, that'd do it.

Dick's second best idea is getting the hell out of dodge and pray they don't get caught.

It's a good thing the warehouses' worth of shipments they intercepted were located at the outskirts of town, so they didn't leave too much of a trail. There is still the risk of being followed, but once they get out of the city, they should be safe.

Everything about this situation is an annoyance, and by the look of it, Jason whole-heartedly agrees with him. Without the trademark red helmet in place, Jason's frustration is on full display.

"It could be worse," Dick continues out loud, "Sure, we can't go back by plane, but there's other options."

He's met with an exasperated groan.

"I get it, there's only one airport around here, _blablah_ high risk of discovery, but Dick," Jason says, looking straight at him. "It's a three-day drive back. That is, if we only stop to eat or sleep and aren't forced to make a detour."

Dick rolls his eyes. "You have anywhere you need to be by tomorrow?"

He already knows the answer to that question. Their original plan had involved less explosions and two more days of recon, but they had to improvise and cut the mission short. Unless Jason had contacted his friends earlier in the night, he should be free for a couple more days.

"No, but-"

Dick interrupts him before he can start making excuses. "Thought so! The slow way around it is then."

"We don't even have a car anymore!" Jason splutters in protest.

Dick winces at the reminder. One of the guys chasing them had been in possession of a bazooka and some great aim. It had been a stroke of luck that they escaped the car on time.

It did leave them without a vehicle at the moment. Perhaps, not that lucky after all.

"Well, considering the circumstances, _borrowing_ a car might be our best shot."

Jason stares at him, that familiar mocking tone making its way back into his voice.

"Are you, Nightwing, golden Boy Wonder, paragon of justice, suggesting we steal a vehicle?"

Dick shoots him an unimpressed look. He doesn't understand why Jason likes to act shocked whenever Dick suggests something illegal. They're vigilantes, it's practically in the job description.

It might just be an attempt to get a rise out of him. Jason is good at getting under Dick's skin and pressing at all the sore spots he hides there. But this feels like something else. Dick's body aches but he's still awake enough to notice the strain behind Jason's grin, the way his fingers tap-tap-tap against his leg. All signs point to Jason being on edge.

For a moment, Dick entertains the thought that Jason is trying to cover up embarrassment. They haven't really spoken about the kiss yet, more concerned with _not getting killed_ , but Dick's itching to bring it up. If nothing else, to get rid of the tension.

Maybe to get a repeat performance.

Not now though. _Priorities_.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Not really," Jason considers, "But even with a stolen car, there's a good chance they'll spot us."

Dick hums in acknowledgement. That's a risk they'll have to take. "We'll switch cars again once we're out of town and hope for the best."

Jason's shoulders slump in resignation. "Can I pick which car to hot-wire at least?"

"As long as you keep it subtle."

"Describe 'subtle' _._ " Of course, _now_ he's warming up to the idea.  

"Nothing brand new, no limousines, no trucks, and no custom paint jobs."

Jason chortles. "You're severely limiting my options here, babe."

Dick's head turns in surprise, but Jason is looking the other way, gaze fixed to something in the distance. Did he call Dick that on purpose? Or had it become a force of habit during their time at the resort?

"More important than my taste in cars," Jason clears his throat, "I lost the majority of my gear around the same time that rental got blown to bits. And our other luggage is obviously a no-go as well."

It takes a few seconds for Dick to process the words properly. He sees the movement of Jason's lips, hears him speak, but the shift from ' _wait, is he embarrassed?_ ' to ' _he lost what now?_ ' is too sudden. Once his brain catches up to speed again, he wants to smack himself. 

"I forgot about that, shit." Maybe Dick is more sleep-deprived than he thought, if he's slipping up this badly. He can feel a headache coming on. "Ok. What do you have on you?"

"Aside from my short-range communicator and empty guns?" Jason digs through his jacket's pockets, listing the contents as he goes. "Chewing gum, spare change, lighter, pepper spray and some small smoke bombs." He pulls out a wallet. "The now-useless ID card, about 500 bucks cash and some coupons."

Despite the circumstances, Dick snorts. "Why do you have coupons in there?"

"A guy's gotta eat," Jason shrugs. "What do you have on you, mister skin-tight leave-nothing-to-the-imagination?"

Dick raises an eyebrow. That was definitely flirting, right?

He smirks and twists his uninjured arm around to his back to unzip a hidden pocket. Dick's wallet is a lot sparser in comparison, but he gleefully notes that Jason's reaction is equal parts confusion and fascination.

"Only about a hundred dollar cash, but there's a credit card in here too. One that we can actually use, nonetheless."

"Looks like we won't have to starve after all."

Dick nods as he puts the wallet away again. Now that he's less distracted by Jason's weird mood, he's aware they left behind more essential things than weapons. "There's something else we need to get though", he says.

"Which would be?"

Dick lets the silence stretch a few seconds too long. He fully admits the pause is for dramatic effect, but if anyone is going to appreciate that little bit of theatricality, it's Jason.

Then, he points at the Nightwing-blue across his chest.

" _Civilian clothes_."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

"You do realize we could have stolen some clothes too, while we were at it?"

The words themselves sound like a complaint, but even though Jason is noticeably fatigued, his voice is laced with humor.

"I'm not breaking into someone's home in the hope they have something in our size. Not while there's a perfectly serviceable Wal-Mart right here." Dick replies smoothly. It's not that Jason is wrong, but staying near residential areas could put civilians at risk. Either way, Dick would rather not waste their small head start on arguing about it any longer than they already have.

Jason raises his hands with a shrug. "I'm just saying, you have some inconsistent standards going on there."

"Just go buy some shirts and a pair of pants, Jason," Dick says with a light kick to the back of the driver's seat. "Anything will do."

"I'm buying you the most gaudy thing I can find."

"Please don't," Dick's face screws up in a grimace. "Laying low, remember?"

 Jason looks over his shoulder and grins down at him. "Well, you certainly are."

Dick kicks the seat again.

It's not _entirely_ his fault that the Nightwing costume is a lot less subtle than Red Hood's outfit of choice. There's a rhyme and reason to the sleek design, after all. He blends in with Gotham's perpetual shadows and Blüdhaven's neon-lit back alleys without problem.

Hiding in plain sight though? Yeah, not happening.

Dick has been trying very hard to not attract attention by lying down on the back seat, doing his best impression of an inanimate object. Meanwhile, all Jason has to do to disappear in a crowd is zip up his jacket and ditch the gun holsters and helmet.

"Which is exactly why I'd like some other clothes now, _please_."

"Yes yes, I'm going."

Jason pulls on a baseball cap Dick found in the car's trunk, angling it low enough to shield his face from prying eyes. It's not much of a disguise, but along with the hint of stubble forming on his cheeks and an expression that screams 'it's 4 A.M. and I'm dead tired, if you try to talk to me I will _break your arm_ ', anyone that sees him will probably assume he's on his way home from a party.

The hickeys underneath his jaw might also help sell that excuse.

Resigned, Jason shakes his head and steps out of the car.

Dick sends him off with a mock-salute and hopes for the best. They haven't driven far enough yet for him to feel safe, but this isn't something that can be postponed for long. Nighttime definitely works in their favor; while Gotham has become somewhat apathetic to the sight of costumed vigilantes in odd places, people around here would be a lot quicker to talk about spotting them in broad daylight.

There's not much Dick can do until Jason gets back either, which is as boring as it is frustrating.

He shifts onto his side and tries to get comfortable. The pain in his shoulder is unobtrusive - in part because of its familiarity - but the limited range of movement is what bothers Dick most. Not for the first time, he's thankful he isn't alone on this mission. Jason only suffered a few cuts and bruises, and if he had sustained anything worse, he is very good at hiding it.

Then again, Jason _does_ have an impressive poker face when he puts in the effort.

Dick knows this- has known it for a while now. Despite the occasional bursts of anger and hostility he displays, Jason knows how to reel himself back. The ways in which he channels rage towards action are precisely measured, _cold_ , more so than people seem to give him credit for. It's a valuable asset, and one of the reasons Dick asked him along in the first place.

Right now, with Dick desperately trying to get a grip on Jason's mood, it's mostly a hindrance. He's good at reading people, but he's not psychic. And Dick sure would like to know what type of reaction he's in for when he tries talking with Jason, lest the encounter ends with another punch to the face. Not when it's been going so well between them lately. 

Admittedly, asking Jason to fake a relationship with him had been pushing the boundaries of their not-quite friendship. Even so, that had been a calculated risk. He could have brought somebody else along, another teammate to watch his back. But they wouldn't have been _Jason_. When was Dick ever getting another chance to see what dating him would be like?

Or so he'd thought, before Jason kissed him.

He doesn't regret kissing back, _far from it_ , but he's apprehensive of what comes next. There's too much history between them to leave things be. Chances are, it would only result in more miscommunication and resentment in the long run - and Dick wants there to _be_ a long run. All of their flirting and joking around doesn't guarantee anything.

They'll have to _talk_ , sooner rather than later.

Dick can already tell it's going to be like pulling teeth - leave it to Jason to never kiss and tell, even to the person he made out with in the first place. On a rooftop, with high risk of discovery.

Which is mortifying to think about in hindsight.

With another sigh, Dick re-adjusts his position. Waiting around like this is a lot less stimulating than on patrol. There's nothing to focus on but the far-off sound of cars, and at one point, a _very_ drunk man stumbling past, talking into his phone.

Dick's communicator beeps.

"Jason?"

"Start the car," Jason's voice hisses in his ear, "They managed to follow us faster than I thought, and I doubt I can lose these guys in the fucking dairy aisle. ETA to the front exit is two minutes, so you better hurry up."

_Of-fucking-course._

Dick clambers over to the driver's seat and starts the engine. They parked a reasonable distance from the entrance, far enough to ensure people wouldn't casually walk by, but close enough for situations such as this.

There's another beep in his left ear.

"Change of plans," Jason shouts, and that- That was definitely a gunshot he heard in the background. Jason curses. "East side of the building, second floor. About twenty seconds."

_Second floor-?_

Dick slams the gas pedal down and turns around. The tires squeal loudly, but there's no use in being stealthy any longer. He makes it just in time to see the door to the fire escape swing open. Jason jumps over the banister to the ground below. Dick only slows down long enough for Jason to stumble inside, bag and all, before speeding off.

"Had a fun shopping trip?" he asks idly. It's out of habit more than anything - at the moment he's more preoccupied with finding the nearest highway than thinking of witty banter.

"Absolutely splendid, glad you asked", Jason snaps back. He's breathing heavily, bag still clutched to his chest.  

Dick allows him another moment to recover before asking, "So, how many of them are there?"

"Only two guys in the store, but - and I'm going by the fact that there's a _very_ suspicious car following us - there's at least one driver as well."

Dick looks in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, there's a black SUV on their tail.

"Have any idea how to lose them?"

Jason looks over his shoulder, then at the road on either side of them. Traffic is sparse at this hour, thankfully, allowing them to weave between lanes with ease. The downside is that their pursuers have the same advantage.

Jason empties his bag onto the backseat and starts digging through its contents. There's the sound of packaging ripping, then, the clink of metal. 

"I do now," Jason says, cocking his gun. And when did he put the helmet back on? "Open your window, take a U-turn at the next intersection, then duck."

Dick frowns, but does as he's told. "Aim for the tires and _not_ the driver's head, please."

As if on cue, their pursuers open fire. Jason huffs.

"No promises."

While shooting the tires sounds like a simple idea in theory, Dick feels more than a little hesitant about steering blind while Jason engages in a shoot-out over his head.

There's something disconcerting about hearing the shots ring so close to his skull, about smelling gunpowder and smoke without being expected to help or disarm. One stray bullet, and Dick wouldn't even see his death coming. He trusts Jason to not let it happen, _he does_ , but trust doesn't mean much when you've been trained to always anticipate the worst.

By the time Jason finally nudges him to sit up again, it feels like his heartbeat has crawled up into his throat.

They haven't swerved as much as he feared, though Dick is quick to steer the car back into the fast lane regardless. In the rearview mirror, he can see the distance between them and the - now unmoving - SUV grow larger. He sighs in relief.

"Good thing I picked up some ammo before heading to the clothing section, huh?" Jason asks out of the blue. He sounds entirely too smug to Dick's liking.

"I don't know, I think I could have done with less bullets flying around."

Jason cackles. "You're in the wrong line of work for that."

It doesn't take long after that until they're on the highway, the road stretching wide ahead. Various signs tell them it's another twenty miles to the next rest stop, so Dick resigns himself to driving in the Nightwing costume a little while longer. He just hopes Jason had the decency to get him appropriate clothing, and not something outlandish.

If he sees anything neon-colored in that bag, _Jason_ is going to be the one wearing it.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

As it turns out, Jason did choose sensible clothing.

Once they are parked out of sight, Dick is quick to claim a few differently sized T-shirts, a pair of - surprisingly soft - sweatpants and the one zip-up hoodie Jason had brought along in the pile of clothing. The clothes might not be the most fashionable, or flattering, and one of the shirts features a pun so cheesy even Dick would be reluctant to use it, but they'll do.

Relief washes over him as soon as he peels off the grimy fabric of his costume. Getting properly cleaned up isn't an option in these roadside restrooms, but scrubbing the worst of the dirt away does wonders for his mood.

After that, their first day post-mission is spent driving as far as they can, as fast as they can. They take turns behind the wheel, allowing the other to catch up on sleep. It's boring and monotone, but necessary. The only break they take is around noon, to eat and switch cars.

The people that attacked them at night don't make a reappearance. Dick assumes that they either got caught by local police, or called back to deal with the absence of their boss. Whichever it is, Dick has faith that Barbara is keeping tabs on the situation from afar and would find a way to contact them in case of emergency. So until that happens, he allows himself to relax. Somewhat.

It'd be easier if Jason would do the same.

High-strung and grouchy, is his attitude of the day. By the time evening rolls around, Dick is bored out of his mind. While Jason's replies haven't been all-out hostile, they weren't very friendly either. Dick sticks to offhand commentary of their surroundings for a while, before falling silent. He dozes off, leaning against Jason's seat. The sense of _nearness_ is nice. While Jason is unlikely to welcome physical affection right now, there's no objection to Dick's actions as-is.

Dick loses track of time, drifting in that half-asleep state, mind tracing patterns in the clouds that roll by on the other side of the car window. It's a pleasant blur, the sort that distracts from his body's aches rather than enhance them. There's music, softly, crackling like static. Then it stops. 

Jason flicks him on the nose to get his attention. They need to discuss dinner plans and where to stay the night.

A motel would be the obvious choice. It's just their luck that most of them have no vacancy left due to some local event. Whatever it is, there's a lot of people walking around, even after sundown. Not all of them sober, either.

Dick calls it quits after the first three places they check out are a bust, arguing that they could just as well sleep in the car. Unlike the first car they _borrowed_ , this one is a van. There should be enough space to lie down in the back, even if it might be a tight fit between the two of them.

Jason begrudgingly agrees.

They park off to the side of yet another 24/7 hypermarket. Two birds, one stone, Dick thinks. Nobody should care about one more parked car for a few hours, and they can get food. Jason is less than thrilled. He looks up at the giant lit-up sign proclaiming the store's name in distaste.

"If you want me to go in there, I'm taking my guns with me."

That... Is not what Dick expected to hear.

"Absolutely not. You can't take those into the store", he sputters.

"Fucking watch me."

" _Jason_."

"As if I'm the first guy to take a gun into a store, hah," Jason mutters under his breath. Louder, he continues, "You weren't the one that got shot at last time, _Dick_. I only got away because I toppled an entire row of canned food onto their heads."

Dick blinks in confusion. _A row of-?_

"You did _what_?!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Jason shouts back, affronted. "Stab them with the cutlery?"

Dick winces, though he's not sure if it's at the idea of Jason throwing kitchen knives around, or at the thought of the poor employees who had to clean up after him regardless.

"I'm bringing the guns", Jason insists.

Dick levels him with the most nonplussed look he can muster. "One gun."

"Both."

" _One_."

"One and an extra clip of ammo."

"Ugh, fine."

Knowing Jason, that's probably the best offer he's going to get without coming to blows.

It's calm inside the store, despite the amount of people on the streets. A few employees, ranging from wide awake to 'obviously on his fifth energy drink', are sitting idly behind their cash registers. One of them is making origami out of promotional pamphlets.

Jason looks around all of five seconds before stating, "I'm gonna look for something. You go get food." His initial misgivings about entering the store appear to be forgotten already.

"Care to elaborate on that?" Dick asks.

"Not really. You'll see."

A wad of paper is pushed into Dick's hands without preamble. He blinks down at it in confusion. _Coupons_. Jason pats him on the shoulder with a smirk.

"Go wild, Goldie."

Dick laughs. He hadn't expected to see those again, to be honest. Might as well put them to use.

First things first.

He goes to pick up bottled water and preserved foods. Pre-made meals don't come close to the taste of a home-cooked dinner, but it _is_ a lot cheaper and efficient right now. Next, he makes a beeline towards the snack isle and grabs a few bags of chips and granola bars and whatever else he thinks Jason might like.

Jason finds him not much later, reading the label on a cereal box that claims to be limited edition. It's snatched from his hands.

"You are _not_ having cereal for dinner."

"Who said it was for dinner?" Dick grins up at him. "Maybe I'm just thinking ahead for breakfast."

Jason snorts. "You expect me to believe that?"

Dick pries the box from Jason's fingers and puts it in his cart anyway. Then he notices what else Jason is carrying.

"Are those _sleeping bags_?"

"Have you seen the floor of that van?" Jason asks in return. He has a point - the van isn't exceptionally dirty, but Dick has no doubt that there are traces of mud down there anyway.

Dick shrugs and gestures for Jason to drop the bags in their cart. Both of them have slept under worse conditions, but in this case, there's no reason to make the trip any harder on themselves. They can afford to splurge a little.

"Should we get pillows as well?" he suggests.

The question manages to coax a grin out of Jason. "Lead the way."

Unsurprisingly, Jason gets sidetracked again before they even reach their destination. Now that they have implicitly agreed to spend money on non-essentials, Jason's interest is peaked by a bargain bin filled with novels and magazines. Leftover stock or misprints, most likely. He starts systematically making his way through the first pile, then moves on to the second.

Dick would feel insulted about being ignored all of a sudden, but the sight of Jason's silent enthusiasm is oddly endearing.

He leaves him to it.

Picking out pillows doesn't take very long - as long as they are more or less fluffy, Dick is happy - but he hangs back a bit longer than needed, going so far as to make a detour to the electronics section to check his mail.

_(In less than a minute, Babs messages him to say he's an idiot and should get off the non-secured store Wi-Fi. Dick sends back a string of indecipherable emojis to assure her he's safe. She locks him out of all his social media.)_

No matter. Jason should have had time to unwind by now.

Dick makes his way back.

As expected, Jason is busy leafing through one of the novels. If he has noticed Dick's presence, he's not acknowledging it whatsoever. For the first time today, he looks at ease. Dick wishes he could see it happen more often.The moments where Jason lets his guard down, enjoying himself, lost in thought but _happy_. Jason, genuinely interested and passionate. The way his face lights up with amusement.

Witnessing Jason without his hackles raised feels like winning a round of poker, Dick thinks. A prize to be cherished for as long as it lasts. Some days he gets dealt a good hand and winning is easy. Others, Jason can be so obtuse that Dick wants to punch him in the face.

Wouldn't be the first time that happened over a poker game either.

But Dick has been living in Blüdhaven for years now; taking chances comes as familiar as breathing.

He puts the pillows down quietly, and slides his arms around Jason's waist from behind.

"You good to go?" he asks.

Jason coughs, posture tensing and relaxing again in the span of seconds. There's a hint of pink tingeing his cheeks.

"Ready when you are."

When Dick loosens his embrace and steps back, Jason takes hold of his hand. He doesn't mention it, doesn't comment on his actions, just starts walking towards the exit with Dick in tow.

Grinning from ear to ear, Dick entwines their fingers.

Luck is definitely on his side today.                                                                        

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Day two of their pseudo-road trip starts off... _reasonably_ , on Dick's end. Okay, so Jason got punched in the solar plexus. Big deal. In no way was that Dick's fault, even if he was the one who threw the punch.

Jason was the one who jerked awake at the crack of dawn, completely silent but sudden enough to startle Dick. Aside from the violent way it tossed Dick to the side, it also made him realize he woke up in a different spot from where he'd fallen asleep.

If he had laid down half on top of Jason, while conscious, Dick would have remembered, thank you.

As such, Dick's awakening was as disorienting as it was dangerous, with Jason's elbow swinging precariously close over his face. He'd reacted on instinct, _in self-defense_ , and he's sticking to that reasoning. That doesn't stop Jason from grumbling about it all throughout breakfast, though his commentary turns less snappish and more amused after a while.

Their hours driving are spent much the same way. Dick doesn't have much to do behind the wheel but hum along with the radio. Jason opens one of the novels he bought the night before and starts reading. His eyes move steadily along, page after page, but sometimes Dick catches him tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the music.

They drive until they run out of snacks and their stomachs feel the first pangs of hunger. This time, they stop by a more local diner, one whose menu looks like it won't drown them in grease. Dick scopes out the place, its exits and entrances and security gaps. It's not very busy right now, but there's enough of a crowd to make neither of them stand out. Good.

He slides into a wall-side booth, facing the main entrance. Jason should have a decent vantage point of the emergency exit from his seat.

They end up ordering burgers anyway.

Jason brought their bag of belongings along and is now paying the price. There's plenty of leg space underneath the table, just not when you're trying to fit an entire duffle bag under there as well. Dick tries not to laugh, but it's a challenge.

So maybe it's a distraction more than anything when Jason drawls out, "You know, I can't help but wonder if I should expect angry calls and accusations of kidnapping soon."

Dick, for his part, wonders if there's a lead-up to that statement, a piece of conversation that he flat-out missed. Because he has no clue what Jason is talking about.

Jason clicks his tongue. "I meant, are any of your friends gonna get on my case for keeping you this long?"

It's disguised as a joke, but he looks genuinely curious about the reply. Dick chuckles.

"It's fine, they can take care of business without me. I told them I was going to be hard to reach for a couple of weeks." After a second, he adds, "Besides, if there's an emergency, Barbara and Tim know how to find us. Wouldn't take long for Wally to come get me either."

"Then why didn't he in the first place?"

The sheer bluntness of the question is in such stark contrast to Jason's earlier teasing that it catches Dick off guard. He must have been less obvious than he thought, if Jason has to _ask_.

Dick never claimed to play fair, though.

"Same reason you didn't contact Bizarro and Artemis first chance you got."

That has Jason's mouth twitching up for a split second, before he gets his expression back under control. "Touché."

Silence settles over them with the waitress' arrival. She places their food down with all the usual pleasantries.

Dick smiles to himself.

Asking why he didn't hitch a ride with one of his friends is pretty silly, especially for Jason. They're in the same boat after all. There are a myriad of ways that each of them could have left that city alone, several people they could have called for extraction.

But where would be the fun in that?

Dick had planned to spend these two weeks with Jason, and so help him, he will see it through. He's not ready yet to give up this small world of their own, where Jason and he can just get along, have fun and flirt and not have to deal with the opinion of others.

Consequences are for later. For now...

He waits until the waitress is well out of earshot before smirking at Jason. "Also, kidnapping accusations? Really?"

Jason kicks him in the shin.

"It's a legitimate concern, dickface."

"Don't worry, Roy is at HQ for the week. He'll defend your honor."

"Honor?" Jason questions, affront written on his face. "What honor?"

"Laugh it up, jackass, you're not as tough as you think."

Jason flips him off, but it's hard to look intimidating with puffed up cheeks, chewing a too-large bite of burger. Dick grins and digs into his own plate. 

He gets another ten blissful minutes of relaxation in, before a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. A fairly average looking man, with mousy brown hair and day-old stubble, sits down near the window. He's facing the exit but still within full view of Jason and Dick. He has a bomber jacket slung over one arm, nondescript rucksack on the other, but the clunk of the bag being set down is too heavy for its size, and the lines of his sweatshirt don't fall right for a man of his build.

_Oh you have got to be kidding me._

At least one gun hidden beneath his clothes then, likely more in the bag. Now Dick knows to _look_ , the knife in his boot isn't all that well concealed either. Neither is the tattoo trailing up his wrist.

Dick is seriously starting to question this gang's choice of hired guns, if they're all going to be this obvious about it.

Still, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Bruce echoes _'Never underestimate an enemy'_ in the back of his head. So Dick plasters on his best smitten expression, takes a moment to lament the loss of his half-eaten lunch, and turns to Jason.

"Hey baby? Give me your hand for a second."

Jason coughs, caught in the middle of stuffing his mouth with more fries. "What?"

Dick beckons, crooking his fingers palm-up. "C'mon, trust me."

The speed at which Jason obliges him is agonizingly slow. He glares at a point over Dick's left shoulder the entire time.

Normally, Dick would have savored the moment of unexpected bashfulness. But as he turns Jason's hand over in between his own, hiding enough of his fingers from view to tap out an unseen warning, his brain is already running a mile a minute.

"See, not so bad, right?" He soothes his thumb over Jason's wrist to indicate he's done with his message.

"Hm," Jason grunts in reply. The lazy way his fingers continue to play with Dick's own makes him appear lost in thought, but his eyes glint, _sharp_. "By the way, I just remembered that we ran out of water earlier. We should go buy some before we hit the road again."

Dick blinks, puzzled. "Huh?"

"There's a Target across the road." Sarcasm seeps into Jason's tone, light and casual, as if they're only making small talk. "Dunno if you noticed, it's a store? A pretty big one."

 _Ah, of course_. A confrontation is out of the question here. Between the staff, the odd truck driver, a few families and the gaggle of college students sitting half-behind Dick, there's a lot of people that could get caught in the crossfire.

They need to relocate.

There will be people in the store too, but hopefully they can find some unoccupied employee area. Or maybe they'll just get shot at in the parking lot.

Either way-

Dick laughs, too high to be natural, but just enough to come across as flirtatious. "Oh, sorry, I got distracted for a second. Sure, we can do that."

They hastily pay their bill, adding a hefty tip in the process, and approach the road arm in arm. As easy to spot as their wannabe-assassin was, he's obviously smart enough to wait for a better opportunity. Too many witnesses here.

"At least we took our bag with us too," Jason mumbles. "I assume I can bring my guns into the store this time?"

Dick ignores him in favor of studying the road. Traffic is still rushing past, pedestrian lights set to red. They're going to have to wait a while before crossing.

"What, you lost for words?" Jason nudges him.

Dick shoves him back, though gently enough that it doesn't look out of place paired with his showman's smile. "Shut up and act couple-y."

"That's not even-"

Dick kisses him, promptly interrupting whatever snide remark was about to leave Jason's mouth. Jason, to his credit, doesn't miss a beat, and slides an arm around Dick's waist. The sensation that unfurls in Dick's chest is every bit as intense as he remembers, though the aching tenderness of it all takes him aback. He breathes out, almost a sigh, before slotting their lips even closer together. Common sense prevents him from melting into Jason's embrace the way he wants to, but it's a close call.

If this is how he feels after only two days of not-kissing Jason, he's in more trouble than he realized.

The light turns green, and Dick spots the man from earlier heading in their direction.They pull apart and _move_.

Miraculously, they make it inside uninterrupted. There's no abandoned staff area around, but there's no time to back out now. They slink through isle after isle, deeper into the store, until they find a spot that's suitably free of bystanders. There should be a few minutes left before Amateur Assassin catches up with them.  

Jason zips their bag open, pulls out his guns and-

"Wait, you can't change into that! He's after _us_ , not Nightwing and Red Hood."

"Are you insane?" Jason hisses. "They already know which vigilantes messed with their shipments!"

"But they don't have _proof_ of that!"

"What if you get recognized?! You wanna try to explain why _Richard Grayson_ , adopted son of Bruce Wayne, got involved in a shoot-out?"

"It won't come to that," Dick tries to assure him, "I'm not that well-known."

"You're a billionaire's eldest son, and an attractive one at that."

"Whom only Gothamites care to gossip about, trust me. The press forgets I exist most of the time."

Jason stares a heartbeat longer, studying Dick's face. He unceremoniously shoves his helmet into Dick's hands. "I'm not risking it. Put the helmet on."

It's Dick's turn to stare incredulously.

"You heard me, put it on." Jason continues. "I'll admit full costumes are a bad idea right now, but I'm not having your face show up in any security footage."

"You can't be serious."

A predatory grin stretches across Jason's lips. " _Dead serious_. Here, take the jacket too."

"Jay-"

"At most, they'll know Red Hood was involved. That's a lot less telling than Nightwing appearing this far away from Blüdhaven."

"I leave Blüdhaven plenty of times."

"Yeah, to show up in Gotham or near world-ending events. Messing with criminal empires on the go is more my MO, so suit up."

Dick swallows any further protest. Arguing is a waste of time, and they don't have much left. He replaces his baseball cap with the helmet, muttering a soft " _Unbelievable_ " under his breath as it clicks shut.

Jason puts the hat on instead, then grabs a scarf and ties it around the lower half of his face. It looks ridiculous, in Dick's opinion. Going by the waggle of Jason's eyebrows, he knows it too.

"Should I go look for some sunglasses to complete the outfit?"

Dick rolls his eyes. "Let's just go. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Easier said than done.

It takes about a minute for Mister Amateur Assassin to start shooting at random objects to lure Jason and Dick to him, but damn him if it doesn't work like a charm. Dick throws any attempt at stealth out the window, skips hide-and-seek altogether, and opts for a more direct approach. They'll just have to corner him instead.

Dick weaves in between the shelves for cover, trusting Jason will have come to the same conclusion as him. The quick-fire speed at which he needs to dodge means that he can't keep track of Jason's location as well as he'd like - though if Dick has to hazard a guess, he'd say that Jason is searching a better vantage point. He has another, more pressing issue to deal with.

Not every customer got the memo that gunfire means _'go, start running'_ and not _'stick around'._ Here and there are people left behind, too flabbergasted to move or do much but stare.

Although one burly guy in the fruit isle decides throwing a cantaloupe at them is a great idea. A _cantaloupe_. At people with _guns_.

Self-preservation instinct must be hard to come by.

Subsequently, Dick needs to tackle a very prim-and-proper lady into a stack of toilet paper, then circle back around to pull her dog out of the line of fire. Jason ends up having to carry a kid to safety as well. He gets grazed by a bullet for his trouble.

Once they are clear of bystanders, it barely takes two more minutes before Jason gets a clear shot and knocks the gun from the crook's hand. Dick follows up with a knee to the guy's kidney and a kick to the head. Mystery Man crumples to the floor, unconscious. Dick and Jason are left standing in the middle of _absolute chaos_.

Neither of them wants to stay and find out how long it will take for security to arrive. They run for it.

Their rushed footsteps thunder through the now-empty hallways, through the emergency exit, up the roof, over the neighbouring building, further and further. They keep a brisk pace until they're well hidden, several blocks away. Dick struggles to regain his breath, and Jason isn't doing much better.

He curses. They're going to need a new car, again. And avoid police, again.

And Babs will be working overtime, erasing security recordings.

They are never going to hear the end of this.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Sundown comes as a relief. Part of it is familiarity, proof of a childhood spent training in the worst of Gotham at night. The knowledge that the dark brings opportunity to hide. Dick has been on edge ever since the attack, and Jason doesn't appear to be any better off. Hours of hiding, acquiring new transport, and _running like hell_ took its toll.

He can't speak for Jason, but Dick has been awake for too long, too amped up on adrenaline and low-simmering paranoia to pull off another driving shift. Not safely, at least. So when Jason too burns out of energy, miles and miles later, they don't have any choice left if they want to catch a few hours of sleep.

They check into a motel.

The building itself is nice enough, with no visible signs of neglect or damage to be found. Hopefully the beds hold up too.

Jason is the one who enters first and slams the remainder of their cash down on the front desk. He doesn't bother asking for a twin room to keep up appearances - he just stares at the receptionist with a thinly veiled challenge in the crook of his brows and the sneer of his lips as he confirms that yes, they want a single room.

Usually Dick would crack a joke or two and get involved in the exchange, as the woman's look comes across more concerned about Dick's safety than judgmental of any kind, but his mind is too preoccupied by everything else to come up with something witty. He just smiles politely, nodding and saying _thank you_ when appropriate.

Nonetheless, he's surprisingly happy at the prospect of sharing a bed with Jason again.

When they get to their room, he is even happier to discover the shower in working order, and calls dibs before Jason puts even a single foot inside. After that first day of _improvising_ in washrooms and today's scuffle in the store, he's in dire need of it.

The hot water cascading down his back feels divine. Dick moans in bliss. The heat loosens his muscles, tension bleeding out with each passing moment.

He didn't notice just how overstrung he had been, nor how much all of the smaller aches and bruises littering his body had built up. Alfred will probably berate him for it later, but it's hard to care right now. He had been more concerned with getting Jason first aid. An infected wound is the last thing either of them needs.

So far so good - they need to redress the wound, but Jason isn't running a fever.

Of course, judging by the fresh bandages on Jason's calf when Dick returns to the main room, he took care of it on his own. That idiot. He should have waited until after he'd showered.

Dick drops down next to him on the mattress, bouncing off of it with a laugh. Jason is lying face-down, limbs spread askew, wearing nothing but his boxers. There is a lot of skin on display, and it's getting increasingly harder to not touch, _caress, smooth his hands over-_

He nudges at Jason's shoulder. "Come on, your turn to shower. We paid for this room, so we better put it to good use."

Eyes still closed, Jason grunts at him."I can think of better _uses_."

Dick can't tell if Jason says it in jest or not, but coupled with his earlier thoughts, it's enough to provide a lot of unbidden - but tempting - images. Which it's neither the time nor place for.

"I don't think that's happening today," Dick answers, though he's not strong enough to stop himself from adding, "Maybe some other time. Come on, you should shower. Then sleep."

Jason acquiesces, eventually, and trudges off to the bathroom. He isn't limping, so the wound can't be bothering him too much, Dick reassures himself. He lies down with a sigh. Definitely not as disastrous as it could have been.

Jason rejoins him twenty minutes later, turning off the lights as he goes. He slides under the sheets without a word. The bed is large enough to fit both of them comfortably, so of course Jason leaves distance between them, facing the window instead of Dick.

Contradictory as always.

Another step in this complicated dance of theirs. Another day trying to find a balance between two people who are so, _so_ bad at asking for the things they want.

Dick shifts, in warning perhaps, and when Jason doesn't react, scoots forward until he lies snug against Jason's back. The smell of cheap shampoo and lavender soap assaults his senses.  

Jason leans back into Dick's touch, almost imperceptibly. 

Dick eases even closer.

So much of tonight is reminiscent of their time at the resort, and yet... Jason is no longer bound by the obligation to stay, to be close to Dick simply for the mission. He can leave whenever he wants, but chooses not to.

There's a flutter caught behind Dick's ribs that's begging for acknowledgement, and besides him, another heartbeat that races in perfect sync. Giddy, he presses a goodnight kiss into Jason's hair, _because he's allowed to do that now_.

He falls asleep and dreams of flying.

 

\---

 

Dick is first to wake, greeted by the noise of kids racing through the hallway. Sunlight shines into his eyes when he tries to open them.

They will have to head out again soon, but Dick isn't eager to leave his current spot. He's cocooned by warmth, curled against Jason's side. Their bodies are slotted together like puzzle pieces - Jason's chin resting in the hollow between Dick's neck and shoulder, an arm slung over his abdomen. Although Dick can't see his face, the rhythmic rise and fall of Jason's chest indicates he's still asleep.

It's cozy and comfortable and Dick _really_ doesn't want to wake Jason up yet, so he allows himself to bask in the sensation of Jason's skin against his own a while longer.

Their alarm clock rings.

_Ah, damn it._

To Dick's dismay, Jason lifts his arm as soon as he regains consciousness. He fumbles for his phone instead, reaching just shy of the nightstand. Dick groans, backs up a bit, and rolls over.

He falls head-first to the floor.

Well then. At least that cleared the haze of sleep from his mind. The bed frame rattles. Jason, laughing at him, though the sound is muffled.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine", Dick grumbles before pushing himself upright on his haunches.

Jason rests his weight on his elbows, grinning wildly. "Facing the day head-on, I see."

Dick retaliates with action rather than words. In the blink of an eye, he is back on the bed, grabbing hold of Jason and wrestling him closer to the edge. It's not an easy task to accomplish, but victory will be all the more rewarding for it. Just a _liiiiitle_ bit more...

"Grayson, I swear to- _Fuck_!- If you push me off of this bed-"

"Then you'll know my pain, Little Wing", Dick sing-songs in reply.

Jason's look turns determined, mischievous and amused all at once. He licks his lips.

Dick almost shivers. That can't be good.

"Is that so? In that case..." Jason bucks up, freeing his legs enough to wrap them around Dick's waist. "Better make sure I don't go down alone."

Before Dick realizes what's happening, Jason rolls both of them over. They tumble to the ground in a mess of limbs and sheets - _again_ , in Dick's case. It's no less painful the second time around.

But Jason's grunt of pain turns into breathless laughter, and Dick can't stay mad for long. He leans down and drinks the sound of it from Jason's lips as if it's the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. One kiss turns into one more, into two, three.

"This is going to end so badly", Jason mumbles into the space between them. His eyes are downcast even as he brushes their lips together again.

And Dick's brain has obviously checked out for the day already, because without much thought he answers, "Can't end badly if it doesn't end."

He can't promise that, not really, but the stricken - almost pained - expression that overtakes Jason's face has him determined to try. Dick will just have to convince him that he _wants_ this. The fights, the arguments, the issues he isn't even able to predict. Jason's smirk against his skin, smoke lingering in his clothes. His voice at the other end of the phone.

Jason must want the same to some degree, or he wouldn't be here, under Dick, grasping at his hips like a lifeline.

Teeth scrape up the side of Dick's neck, along his jaw, only to find his mouth again. Jason's kisses are deep, _dirty_ , a far cry from Dick's earlier teasing. They _burn_ , until all rational thought flies out the window. Dick allows the ministrations, moaning when Jason's grip turns harsh enough to bruise.

He responds in kind, dragging nails over the naked skin of Jason's back until he shivers and rocks forward. Dick moves with him, against him, chasing after the pleasure he leaves in his wake.

It's too much, too fast.

He brings one hand to either side of Jason's face to ground himself. He doesn't wait for Jason to open his eyes and look at him - he just kisses him again, chastely, refusing to deepen the contact even when Jason nips at his bottom lip and _uses tongue, that conniving bastard_.

He breathes in. Slows down.

Jason growls in frustration. "Dick, for fuck's sake-!"

Dick works methodically, _meticulously_ , pecking the corner of Jason's mouth next, then his cheek, his nose, back to his lips. He feathers kisses over his Adam's apple and dips below it, lower, _lower_ , trails them over his collarbones and shoulders.

" _Dick_..." Jason's breath hitches at the exact moment Dick kisses the middle of his chest, where his heart beats loudest.

Dick's fingers ghost down Jason's sides, muscles trembling beneath his touch. There's a hand in his hair, pulling, urging him to look up. A pillow is thrust over his face as soon as he does. Jason is panting heavily.

"Why do you have to be so- _ugh._ "

"Right back at you," Dick's replies, though his voice is muted. He snatches the pillow and throws it to the side, wondering what he did to set Jason off this time. 

He certainly didn't hear any protests pre-pillow.

Jason sits up. One shove later, _Dick_ is the one lying on the floor with Jason in between his legs. He crushes their lips together again. Dick can't help himself.

He bursts into laughter.

"You're something else, you know that?" Jason huffs into his neck. The grumpy tone won't fool Dick - that is definitely a smile he feels.

"And you switch gears faster than a Formula One car, but you don't see me complaining."

"You grind my gears, is what you mean."

"Hah. You wish you were _grinding my gears_ alright."

Jason gets up, grabs his clothes, and disappears into the bathroom.

Which is a reasonable response, all things considered.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The remaining ride to Blüdhaven is, all in all, uneventful. Nobody gets maimed or injured further, the car makes it in one piece, and they don't get waylaid by someone's plot for world domination. It's a blessing and a curse - they arrive at Dick's apartment before sundown, but there is nothing to distract them from the awkward silence that hits once Dick halts the car.

Getting back home had always been the end goal of this improvised road trip, something he had been aware of in the back of his mind but didn't dare linger on.

But his home isn't Jason's.

Jason's latest hideout is at the outskirts of Gotham, not that far from here, manageable to get to by car or public transport. By all logical lines of reasoning, what Dick _should_ do is get up, let Jason take the car, and say his goodbyes.

Not only does he have no idea how to go about doing any of that, he is loathe to even try. 

Dick has a strong suspicion of what the consequences will be if he allows Jason to run off without another word. Because they're back in familiar territory now, with familiar players. People will get _involved_ , and things always go south when that happens.

"You don't have to go," he says. Trying to delay the inevitable, perhaps. "It'll be dark soon. You can stay here for the night."

Jason fiddles with the strap of his bag, adjusting its spot on his lap. His eyes dart around their surroundings, but not once does he look back at Dick himself.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

A frown crosses Jason's features. His next words come out icy, stinging like barbed wire and needle-points.

"Really, you wanna do this here? _Now_?"

"Do what?" Dick pushes. Jason hasn't left the car yet or tried to break something. There is still hope.

"Have this discussion."

"Only if there is something worth discussing."

"And you think there is?" Jason snaps.

"Yes", he replies without hesitation.

All the fight seems to leave Jason at once. He grimaces.

"Dick, you-"

"I'm not going to change my mind. Or regret it. Any of it."

Jason musters up a laugh, low and gravely and not at all believable. "You sure about that?"

" _Yes_."

The pause after Dick's answer stretches on, silence filling up whatever empty space it can find. It is an almost tangible, terrifying thing. Enough to make Dick's stomach roil.

"And what if I don't want to stay?" The words come slow, as if Jason has to drag them out in the open by force. It tells Dick all he has to know.

"I will call you a big fat liar, for starters. But I would let you go."

It's not about staying. Neither of them has ever been very good at that, always too _something_ to make it work. Too flighty or too fidgety or too reckless. Too good at running, too used to hiding. Too much and yet not enough.

It was never about _staying_.

It's about coming back.

Dick calls Blüdhaven his home, but not because he can't leave it behind. He's not Bruce, and this isn't Gotham. He doesn't feel tied to the city and its history, doesn't share any roots with it, but he chooses to come back anyway. Time and again, through misery and misfortune and changing apartments and safehouses being destroyed. He _chose_ this city.

He wants to choose Jason. Wants Jason to choose him, too.

Otherwise, what's the point?

He doesn't need Jason to stay put and welcome him home at the end of the day. All he needs is a connection, a point where their lives intersect and they can coexist. A promise to fall back into each other's orbit.

That's all he's asking for. Hoping for, really.

When no reply appears to be forthcoming, Dick slowly - anxiously - reaches out to curve a hand behind Jason's neck. He doesn't pull, doesn't ask or demand for more than Jason is willing to give.

Seconds tick by while he waits, the world outside moving along at the speed of light in comparison.

Jason's reply comes in increments, from his deep exhale to his hand covering Dick's, from him leaning forward to Dick meeting him halfway. The start of it is tender to the point of fragility, testing the waters until something clicks, changes, grows stronger and purposeful and they find their stride again. Dick could probably carry on like this for hours, discovering all the different ways in which he can kiss Jason, but his lungs are burning and his apartment is _right there_.

He backs up just far enough to gasp for air and stumble over a whispered, "Come upstairs with me?"

"Aren't I supposed to buy you dinner first?" Jason murmurs back against his lips.

Dick has never been so glad to hear an ill-timed joke in his life. "Well, if that pizza earlier counted..."

Jason barks out a laugh, halfway between hysteria and disbelief, and coaxes Dick into one last kiss. Then he swings the car door open and steps outside. Dick follows, anticipation building and blossoming with each step in the right direction.

The walk up to his apartment goes by in a flash, hurried along by furtive glances and fleeting touches. By the time Dick manages unlock his front door, the urge to drag Jason straight to his bedroom is overwhelming.

In the time it takes him to hang up Jason's jacket, put their bag away, and toss his keys in a place where he's at least ninety percent sure to find them later, Jason has gone to rest against the back of Dick's couch, legs stretched and arms crossed in front of him. Watching his every move like a hawk.

A shiver runs up Dick's spine. The tension is palpable, and not even his teasing, "So, would you like something to drink, or...?" can cut through it.

Not that he really wants it to.

He leaves the question hanging and puts on his widest, most coy smile. Jason's presence in his home is no different than his presence anywhere else in Dick's life lately - magnetizing, leaving Dick with no choice but to try and close the distance between them.    

"That why you asked me up here? Wanna get me drunk?" Dick takes another step, doing nothing to stop Jason's fingers from hooking behind his belt. A single sharp tug, and Dick trips forward into Jason's waiting embrace. "Planning to have your way with me?"

"Hm, I wonder," he tilts Jason's chin up. The hickeys he'd left there are starting to fade. "I never did say my intentions were honorable."

The grin Jason gives him is downright sinful. " _Good._ "

He reels Dick in, makes him come undone until all he can focus on is _heat_ , the brutal slide of Jason's mouth against his own, persistent and intoxicating and-

At this rate they are never going to reach the bedroom.

Jason seems to have had the same thought. Without much preamble he lifts Dick off the floor and carries him the rest of the way, despite Dick's best attempts at distraction. Distraction that involves hiking Jason's shirt up and over his head even before they hit the sheets.

"You," Jason says as he pauses to take the garment off properly, "Are a menace."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ easily swept off my feet."

Dick's eagerness to lose a few layers of clothing belies that statement, but Jason isn't faring any better. His skin is flushed pink all the way down his chest, scratches covering his shoulders where Dick had gotten a bit too enthusiastic. The fading light of day haloes him, envelops the room in shades of orange and _gold_ , and it's all Dick can do to keep on breathing.

One thing is for sure; they are both far too worked up to bother with finesse. Next time, Dick vows, next time he'll do all the little things his heart tells him to.

Now, he explores every inch of bare skin that he can reach in a rush, tries to memorize the angles and lines of Jason's body and the symphony of his heartbeat.

Sometime between Jason pressing him down into the mattress and getting kissed silly, Dick is stripped down to his underwear. _Finally_. He's about to return the favor when he notices Jason tensing up.

The look he shoots Dick's torso is a mixture of shock and thinly concealed worry.

It's the first time he sees the full extent of Dick's bruises, and he is obviously none too pleased. He had gotten glimpses of it, no doubt, but the worst ones are on Dick's back and sides, conveniently hidden by his shirt. Aside from the occasional discomfort, Dick had forgotten about them.

"It's fine," he tries to reassure him, "It looks worse than it feels."

"Maybe we should-"

"Jason Peter Todd, I have been waiting for this, very patiently might I add, since you first kissed me. Unless another hitman busts through the window right this moment, you are not dissuading me."

"You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?"

"Pot, kettle," Dick shrugs. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Even so, _these_ aren't from the fights, are they?"

Dick follows Jason's line of sight, down to the purple-blue finger-shaped bruises on his hips.

_Ah._

"No, they're not," he confirms, "But I don't mind having those."

Jason hums, lost in thought. His eyes roam over the rest of Dick's skin, bruised, scarred, unmarred alike. A life story that Jason traces over with gentle reverence, the kind Dick has only ever seen him use for rare weapons or books.

"You don't, huh?"

"I don't," Dick insists. "But if you feel bad about it, I'm open to apologies."

Jason snorts softly, but decides it's in his best interest to kiss Dick again.

Dick wholeheartedly agrees.

He doesn't waste any more time trying to take things slow - as soon as Jason finally kicks his jeans off, Dick parts his lips in invitation and surges up to wrap his arms around the back of Jason's neck. There are little noises that Jason makes when Dick does something unexpected like this, bitten-back moans and gasps that escape from in between clenched teeth. Dick _loves it_. 

Whatever doubts had occupied Jason's mind before, they're gone now. Jason looks at him with a single-minded focus that makes Dick's head spin, and Dick soaks up the attention like he's been starved.

It takes an extraordinary amount of willpower to hold back a whine when Jason breaks away from him, moving down, and down, until his mouth is following the path of bruises his fingers had explored moments before.

Dick's breath stutters.

The kisses switch from feather-light to borderline painful in their intensity without warning. Jason's hands anchor him to the bed, feeling impossibly warm against his abdomen, his thighs, _everywhere_. Dick attempts to tilt his hips up in encouragement only to be pushed down again. Rougher, this time.  

Jason glances up at him at the same time he hooks a thumb behind the elastic of his underwear, wordlessly seeking permission.

"Come on," Dick urges, "You shouldn't make people wait."

Jason bites down on a patch of still-unmarked skin over the jut of Dick's hip. "Be nice to the guy that's about to suck your dick, _Dick_."

"Promises, promises."

Tongue and teeth press against his arousal through the fabric, a deliberate tease, meant to reprimand.

"How about you ask nicely, and I'll consider it."

Dick wonders if this is payback for last night. He can feel Jason's breath _so close_ yet nowhere near where he wants it, damp heat staying in place even when Jason goes to grab hold of his ass.

Dick's head drops back against the mattress.

"Just touch me already," he pants, "I swear to- _hngg-_ "

Jason's teeth clamp down just enough to hurt.

"That wasn't very nice."

Dick arches his back in a last-ditch effort to make Jason _move_. It doesn't work. He goes along with the motion of Dick's hips, keeping the pressure his mouth provides minimal.

"You aren't being- _urgh_ \- nice either."

"Sure I am," Jason traces the outline of Dick's increasingly obvious erection. Dick feels the words as much as he hears them. "I'm being _very_ nice."

"Jason!"

"C'mon, you can do better than that." His pupils are blown, Dick realizes with a detached sort of wonder, and his breathing is heavier than before.

"Jay-ss _son_ , please-"

Jason sits up so he can drag his tongue up Dick's midriff in one long swipe from navel to sternum, and _what the fuck_ , that shouldn't be as hot as it is.

Dick's face feels positively on fire by the time Jason finally looks him in the eye, lips hovering right above his own.

"Please, what?"

"Please, touch me, kiss me, _blow me_ , anything, please, _please_ \- ah!"

Dick's hands fly up into Jason's hair as his last piece of clothing is eased off and thrown to the side. His legs are pushed apart again, as far as they can go, and Jason sinks down between them like he belongs there. The hunger in his gaze is as exciting as it is mortifying.

Not that Dick has the chance to feel self-conscious for long. Once Jason finally takes him in hand and licks up his shaft, he has trouble thinking about anything that doesn't involve the wet glide of Jason's mouth against him, _around him_ , feeling like relief and torture all at once.

Dick bites down on his arm, but it does nothing to disguise the noises spilling out of him. Jason is good at this, sucking and bobbing his head just so, driving Dick insane with the not-fast-enough pace and occasional brush of fingers. One particularly well-timed swallow has him tightening his grip on Jason's hair, so hard it has to hurt, but Jason only takes him in deeper and _moans_.

"Holy shi-!" Dick honest-to-God whimpers, and he would be embarrassed about that if he wasn't too far gone to care about something as trivial as modesty. Curses and praises alike pour from his lips one after another, an incoherent stream of words to match his current state of mind.

Jason moans around him again, longer, the vibration of it making Dick's toes curl in pleasure.

" _Please_ ," he gasps, having gone full circle to begging once again. He doesn't even know what he is asking for anymore.

He can feel Jason's nails dig into his thighs. At first he worries that he somehow annoyed him - Jason has never shied away from joking about Dick's talkative nature, though he's just as bad - but his fears turn out to be unfounded.

A single glance down makes it clear that Jason is anything but unaffected. Though his tempo doesn't let up, there's a tremor to his hands that definitely wasn't there before, and what parts of his face Dick can see are cherry-red. Dick grabs some strands of hair that obscure the way and-

 _Oh._ That was a mistake.

Jason looks up at him through his lashes, lips shiny and swollen, still stretched around Dick's girth. Something in his posture changes, becomes a challenge as he sinks down again, slowly, without breaking eye contact. Dick feels like he might combust at any moment now.

He tries to convey the sentiment, but all that he blurts out is, "Wow, you're hot."

Not exactly his finest moment, he will admit, but it gets the point across. Jason twitches, pulling away a few inches to suck in a deep breath.

"Gee, thanks for noticing", he says, voice hoarse and utterly wrecked.

"You are, though," Dick laughs, "You're really, _really_ -"

Jason shuts him up in the best possible way - sinking down on his cock with renewed vigor - but Dick sees the way his blush deepens, the way his hips grind down and he reaches to adjust himself.

 _He's getting off on it_. Oh God, Jason is _totally_ getting off on being complimented. Dick would laugh at the discovery if it wasn't blowing his mind so much. He can work with this.

Right after his brain catches up to speed again.

Because Jason really is giving his all, reducing Dick to a keening, writhing mess within minutes.

"Jay," he warns when he feels a familiar heat pool low in his gut, "S-slow down. I'm-"

Jason squeezes his ass and swallows him down to the hilt, and Dick sees stars. His back strains off of the bed but Jason just keeps going, holds him through all of it until it's too much and he chokes on a dry sob. Part of Dick wants to do nothing but curl up and breathe through the aftershocks, bask in the pleasure tingling through his every limb.

The other, more delirious part demands he bring Jason down to his level.

He crawls into Jason's lap before he can think twice about it, boneless and clumsy but greedy for more. He kisses Jason like he's trying to steal the remainder of his breath away.

" _You are_ ," Dick repeats his earlier words, alternates them with the brush of his lips, "And you know it. You have to notice people stare at you."

"Shut up," Jason gasps, "Shut. Up."

Dick bites his lip and works a hand into Jason's boxers. Jason is still hard, though he's leaking enough precum to have him groaning at the first stroke of Dick's palm.

"At your arms. Your neck. The way you roll your shoulders. Your thighs."

Now Dick is more lucid, the words come easier and easier, even when Jason keeps trying to interrupt him with more kisses.

"And the things they can't know, _but I do_. The determination in your eyes when working a case. The way your shirt clings to your body after sparring." He twists his wrist on the upstroke. Jason's ensuing thrust almost dislodges him. "How perfect you looked while sucking my dick."

He presses their foreheads together, willing Jason to sense his sincerity. To believe him.

"You," he articulates carefully, "Are amazing."

Jason's hands clench around Dick's waist as he tips over the edge, and Dick kisses him again, feels the exact second Jason's jaw goes slack and a shudder wracks his body. The blissed-out look on Jason's face has him utterly entranced. He can't remember a time where Jason has looked this open, this vulnerable, _ever_.

 _Oh_ , Dick thinks with a growing sense of accomplishment, _I did that_.

It doesn't take much effort to push Jason down into the pillows - he is dazed and malleable, and completely at Dick's mercy. Dick wipes his hand on the nearest discarded shirt before following suit, curling around Jason with a content sigh.

Jason being Jason, the first thing he says after his breathing evens out again is "You're going to want to _talk_ about this, aren't you?"

Dick stubbornly cuddles closer.

"Yes. Later though. Now hush, let me enjoy the afterglow."

"I need to get cleaned up."

"Use the shirt."

"Easy for you to say", Jason grumbles, but he peels off his underwear and wipes himself down best as he can anyway. He even pulls up the blankets. Dick makes a mental note to thank him later. Maybe with more kisses, that seems like a really good idea at the moment. Morning sex sounds lovely too. The fact that it would give Jason a reason to stay until breakfast is another point in favor of that plan.

"Pancakes or waffles?" he asks out loud.

"Err- What?"

Oh, right. That might have been a bit confusing.

"For breakfast. Which?"

"If you're cooking, neither."

Dick huffs. He glares at the goose bumps it raises on Jason's skin.

"'m not that bad."

"Go to sleep already. Christ, you're embarrassing."

Dick opens his mouth to reply, but snaps it shut at the last second.

 _'You love me anyway'_ , is what he almost said.

The words would have been simple, a joke, the sleep-drunk sort of comment that's easy to wave off. But that doesn't sit right with him. He doesn't want to _assume_ or make Jason feel cornered. 

For now, this is enough - having Jason in his apartment, his bed, his arms. Watching the last bit of sunlight sink below the horizon, twilight turning to dusk turning to night. Jason relaxing against him instead of pulling away.

The silence that surrounds them doesn't seem deafening for once. Just calm.

No matter what tomorrow will bring, Dick is intent on staying positive - _someone_ has to, and Jason has never been the glass-half-full type of person. They can make this work. Even if he knows there's no guarantee Jason will still be here in the morning, or that he'll be willing to talk, or, or, _or_. He knows the odds stacked against them, but when has that ever stopped him?

Taking one more chance won't hurt.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Waddup this was the last chapter for now, I hope the porn was worth the wait! (even if they were too impatient for condoms and lube and things that involve _preparation_ \--). I tried to make it not too sappy, but well....
> 
> PS for if you hadn't noticed: the concept of this fic is a wordplay-ish joke on Dick trying to win Jason's heart as if it's the grand prize in a poker game haha ~~the opponent is Jason himself because boy does he guard that heart of his~~ (the 'getting lucky' in the summary obviously refers to...other activities)
> 
> As always, any feedback on characterization/specific scenes you liked or disliked, etc. is appreciated! (≧∇≦)♡
> 
> My Tumblr (DC/Marvel sideblog): [ [redhoodsrobin] ](https://redhoodsrobin.tumblr.com)  
> My Twitter: [ [evexe_n] ](https://twitter.com/evexe_n)


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